


Next Year, I'll Remember

by makingitwork



Series: Chase/House [18]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Gay, Happy Ending, Helpful Wilson, I like hurting Chase, Love, M/M, MILD - Freeform, Sex, Slash, but House feels guilty, fight, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Chase fight.</p><p>House has to come crawling back now. </p><p>Wilson has to sit back and watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Year, I'll Remember

"I'm cold, House," Chase whispers, tugging at the blankets, but House rolls away from him, Vicodin wearing off, but it's too late to take another. 

"Then go home." House snaps, he doesn't see Chase flinch, but he feels it. Chase doesn't go home, he curls up into House's back, Australian drawl soft in his ear

"House, it's freezing outside, the heating in your apartment is broke, please," he tugs at the blankets again, but House is angry now, he turns and glares at Chase, voice a vicious growl. He glances at the clock on the bedside table, the red line shimmers at 11:59 pm. Chase is looking at him with wide blue eyes as House hisses

"Go home Chase. I don't want you here, and you're embarrassing yourself!" 

Chase recoils like he's been hit, but he bites his bottom lip and shakes his head "You're leg is hurting," He says softly "You don't mean that-"

"You're disgusting and pathetic," House sneers, lying back down, and cocooning the blankets around him warmly "I don't even know how I managed to get it up. I'm sick just looking at you."

Chase swallows thickly, and he pads out of House's room, eyes stinging, the second that the digital clock flickers to 12:00 am. Midnight.

House regrets it immediately, tears sting at his eyes as he tortures himself for messing up yet another relationship. Christ- all he'd wanted was a corner of the blanket! And House had yelled at him, sent him away, told him he was nothing. He buries his face into his pillow, and it smells distinctly of Chase's shampoo, he whimpers, the pain not because of his leg, into the softness, and wonders if there's a special place in hell reserved for people like him. 

...  
...  
...

At 5 am, House wakes up, freezing, and thirsty, so he hauls himself out of bed, padding to the kitchen to make himself some hot chocolate. 

Wilson apparently has the same idea, because he pads out of his bedroom on tiptoes, but relaxes when he sees House, he grins happily "Not gotten to sleep yet?" He winks, scooping some chocolate powder into a glass. House stares at him in confusion, and Wilson nudges him knowingly "Come on, Chase had the whole night planned out. He was even gonna let you try that role play with the Priest and the Altar Boy," 

House stares at Wilson in confusion, thinking the man is delirious so early in the morning "What the hell are you talking about?"

Wilson rolls his eyes, but then frowns, eyes going to House's bedroom, where the door is open, and the sliver of light from the kitchen reveals that Chase is not, in fact, draped in silk bed sheets and thoroughly blissed out. "House!" Wilson cries in alarm, he doesn't have to whisper now "What the hell did you do?!"

"What are you talking about?" House pours the hot water into the cup, turning to fetch the milk when Wilson catches his arm and spins him around, eyes wide and urgent

"Where's Chase?" He demands, and House, rarely, has no clue what is going on. 

"I sent him home," House shrugs "Told him he was pathetic," he manages a laugh "Should have seen him though, Wilson, you know I don't like 'em needy,"

"House," Wilson looks like he was about to cry, and he runs his fingers roughly through sleep ruffled hair "House- do you even know what today is?" House's vacant stare tells Wilson everything, who groans like he's in pain "It was your one year anniversary, House! He had...he'd bought you a gift, I helped him wrap it, and he'd planned the whole night for you two! He was gonna give you the present at midnight, and then proceed to have sex with you in every form possible! What the hell happened?! Oh god," he rubs his face, "I told him you were gonna be so happy! He was so nervous, and I-" he chokes on air, collapsing onto a kitchen stool "I told him he wouldn't be nervous when you proceeded to fuck his brains out! I didn't realise you were an idiot!"

He was gonna give you the present at midnight. House freezes. Midnight. What time had he told Chase he was disgusting and pathetic and better off at home? 11:59. One minute. If he'd waited one minute, none of this would have happened. The only thing that comes to mind is; "What did he get me?" And it's not as selfish as it sounds. He's curious. He's hurting. He's thrown away the best relationship he ever had, and he hadn't even realised it was their anniversary.

Wilson glares at him "What? Wanna return it for the refund? Well sorry, you can't." But he gets up, and strides to the sofa, moving the cushions, where hidden, was a silver wrapped box, with a gold bow on the top. Wilson slides it across the counter to House, as though he's gonna be sick if he gets too close. House doesn't blame him. He feels the same way right about now. He reads the tag, and it reads 'To my Yank, from your Wombat'. House swallows bitter tears, he can't let Wilson see him cry. But Wilson doesn't seem to be looking at him, he's pacing furiously, wondering what the hell House is gonna do to fix this.

House tears the wrapping, and opens the box, pulling out a cool, silver picture frame. The space is divided between two pictures, the one on the left is the picture Taub took of House with bandages on his nose and eyebrow, from where Chase punched him in the face, and one the right, is a picture of Chase that Foreman took, where Chase is sporting a purple bruise on his jaw from where House punched him in the face. There's an inscription along the bottom of the frame, done in what looks like gold, and House doesn't want to think about how much Chase spent on this. The inscription reads;

'When I finally realised that I love you, it hit me like a punch in the face'

House can't help his smile, and the lone tear that runs down his cheek, Wilson see's it, and stops his pacing. "Oh..." Wilson whispers "You didn't do it on purpose. You do care for him..." He whispers obviously, and House can't say anything, because he's clutching the frame so tightly all of his energy is gone. Wilson is suddenly beside him, taking him back to his bedroom, he tucks House in like a doting parent, and House falls asleep crying, hugging the frame to his chest thinking about how differently the early hours to this morning might have gone. 

...  
...  
...

"Chase-"

"Wilson," Chase forces a smile, he's working patients in the clinic, and he looks perfectly put together, floppy hair golden, white coat gleaming like his teeth from his reluctant smile. "I'm fine. Go back to work-"

"He didn't mean it, Chase," Wilson begs "He's sorry, he was crying, he didn't mean it-"

"Wilson." Chase puts a hand on his shoulder "Don't feel guilty. I don't blame you. It's alright."

"You're not fooling anyone," Wilson says quickly "I know you still love him, and you know it too. Don't bury you're feelings, Chase, talk to him, he's sorry-"

"We've been together a year," Chase whispers, shaking his head "And he still can't control himself around me. I get it, you know? I try so hard to understand-" his eyes burn, and rim red, and Wilson just wants to hug the boy "His leg hurts! He's in excruciating pain! I know that! I get it!" He chokes, and he wipes his eyes before tears can fall, but his hands end up wet anyway "But one year, we've been together, and the best he can do is say that I'm disgusting? That he can't get hard when he looks at me? Wilson," he clutches his heart in pain "I can't take it anymore. I'm sorry, I just...can't," and he turns away, heading for another patient.

Wilson blinks back his own tears, and hangs his head in shame. 

...  
...  
...

House hasn't seen Chase in two days.

That's two days too many. So he searches for him everywhere and then finds him the one place that House would never think to look- the kitchen. House steals his food from Wilson and Chase he never needs to go back here. But that's where he finds Chase, who's filling in a crossword thoughtfully. He looks up when House hobbles in, and immediately stands, ready to bolt, but House blocks the exist. And he tosses Chase something. 

The blond catches the wrapped gift, and opens it carefully, pulling out a blanket. "What is this?"

"My blanket." House whispers, "Because I'll never let you get cold again," he steps forward, but Chase steps back, shaking his head, and it breaks House's heart. 

"I can't," Chase whispers, breaking down, and he cries. Tears stream down handsome, high cheekbones "It hurts too much, House, I can't-"

"Chase please," House whispers, voice breaking "Please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"

"And what about the next time?" Chase challenges "The next time your leg hurts so much you can't take it? I'm not strong enough to take it House! I'm not strong enough to accept that what you say during those times aren't true!" He shakes his head "I can't."

"You managed a year," House whispers, and Chase looks up through watery eyes

"Not through lack of effort, though."

"What do I have to do?" House whispered "To make this right? I didn't mean it. You aren't disgusting- you're beautiful. Chase, I get hard when you speak, you're perfect, you're so perfect, please," he swallows "Anything, what can I do? I'll do anything-"

Chase shakes. "I don't know." He chokes out "I don't know."

...  
...  
...

For two weeks, House goes without Vicodin.

He's in crippling pain, falls over four times, breaks down three, but he comes in everyday, on time, and he treats patients, trying his hardest not to yell at them. By the end of the day, Wilson is nearly carrying him around, and he's drenched in sweat. 

On the 15th day, Chase stops House in the corridor, and thrusts a bottle of Vicodin into his hands, and hugs him tightly "Enough," he whispers "You've made it right, House," because he has. He's proven he cares enough to try. To put himself in pain, just for the Australian. House hugs him back, inhaling the sweet smell of his hair, and he kisses his neck. 

"I knew you'd come back," he whispers, but it doesn't sound smug, it sounds feverish and hopeful, "I knew it,"

...  
...  
...

Wilson can't sleep that night, the constant squeaking of the mattress, Chase's whimpers and House's grunts, they seem eternal, but the oncologist doesn't mind, he smiles to himself, shaking his head. House- the sneaky bastard- cared the whole time. 

...  
...  
...

"I'll remember our next anniversary," House promises breathlessly, covering the both of them with the silk sheets as Chase snuggles into his side "I'll get you something awesome. Like...Rumplestiltskin on crack." Chase snorts delicately, drifting off to sleep. House flicks off the lamp, with a last look at the picture frame on the side, and he goes to sleep too. 

Chase sleeps with a smile on his face, because House has just promised him another year together.

It's more than he could have asked for.

**Author's Note:**

> You give such amazing prompts, I'm working on them!   
> x


End file.
